


Lazy Afternoon

by Ending_Daley



Series: The Sun And Stars And All That Which Hovers Above Us [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Baby Fic, F/M, Kid Fic, Original Character - Freeform, still sorry about that, this is really just a short drabble, this one's cute i promise to make up for Poppy although not set in the same universe, what's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ending_Daley/pseuds/Ending_Daley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haymitch and Effie lying in bed with their son Helios on a lazy Spring afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Helios - 10 months

‘Mm,’ Haymitch hummed, feigned interested vibrating from his chest. ‘Very interesting, sweetheart.’ His response was sleepy, disinterested as he tore his eyes from the page and shifted back to his earlier position.

Effie was a sharer, he learnt, when reading something particularly fascinating she tended to tap him on the shoulder and make him read it as well. He thought he could escape it by not being near her as she read, not only was that a rarity, she sought him out regardless.

‘Honestly, Haymitch, I don’t know why I bother.’ She huffed good naturedly, her free hand turning the page. She only thought the man would be interested, further his knowledge perhaps, or engage her in a debate on political matters. Sometimes it was just a line she fancied in a novel, something romantic, poetic or eye opening. He wasn’t interested.

They were lying in their bed, Haymitch next to her, eyes drifting closed as the last clutches of a fever bit at his nerve endings, making him groggy and tired. She had a book propped up against her knees, one hand free to turn the pages, while the other tapped on the back of her sleeping baby that lay beside her right hip.

Haymitch grumbled, sleep not claiming him as he lay with eyes closed quietly beside the woman. ‘If you would just take the medicine I’ve offered you, you would be feeling fine by now, dear.’ She tisked, not removing her eyes from the page as she listened to the ill suffering man groan.

She had warned him of their son’s cold, warned him that he would most likely get it. But he didn’t listen. And now he had it, their son recovered, sleeping peacefully while his father continued to suffer days after the small boy’s recovery. He refused the sour tasting liquid Effie offered, he tried it once to know he would never go back.

He didn’t respond, only scrunched up his face and threw an arm over his eyes. He was as bad as the ten-month-old. With the book balanced in her lap, the pages heavy enough they wouldn’t turn on their own, Effie took her hand to Haymitch’s hair, wading her fingers through the dark curled strands. He almost purred as her fingers scratched across his scalp. ‘Would you like us to move to the living room, allow you to rest alone?’ Effie’s voice was whisper soft, no longer sharp as it had been in her escort days, no longer shrill. It got that way sometimes, high pitched, when she was angry or stressed, sometimes when she was _incredibly_ excited. Her time in District 12, adapting to a new world after the rebellion softened her tone, and her looks.

She no longer relied on elaborate pieces of clothing, marvellous dresses made out of butterflies and wigs of gold. She let her blonde hair fall free, soft waves falling down her back and swaying in the gentle breeze. She resorted to the cotton dresses of the district, sometimes splurging on less extravagant designs from the Capitol. She couldn’t help her nature, nor her love and respect for fashion. She just turned it down, accepting when and where it was appropriate for such pieces.

Haymitch’s hand wound around her ankle, his eyes still closed. ‘Stay. You’re not bothering me, just please don’t tell me what’s happening in your book.’ Effie chuckled, a soft sound, one that made his heart flutter. He heard her nod rather than saw it, and settled back into the blankets, hoping sleep would rise to meet him in the bed he shared with his wife and son.

Sleep avoided him.

He listened to Effie turn pages, humming to herself quietly here and there as she read, the rhythmic patting of her hand against their son’s rump. Helios slept rarely. Only passing out when he had worn himself down. He never liked to miss out on much, but always picked the moments when he was missing out on nothing.

He had kept them up and sleep deprived for months. Some nights Effie caved, collecting the grumbling child from his crib she brought him back to their bed where he would settle easily between them. His eyes stayed open for a while, his cubby little fingers pulling on the blankets or his father’s hair. Sometimes he inspected his mother’s fingers thoroughly.

He crashed. He didn’t nap. He watched the world for every second that he could until his eyes forced themselves shut. He was wise beyond any measure, Effie was sure of it. She had named him Helios for the sun, his honey skin already prominent on the day he was born. He was her sun, and when he slept – in the first three months of his life – the moon would go to sleep with him.   

Haymitch heard the bed sheets rustle, more than felt the mattress dip. He knew it was Helios, restless in his unexpected nap. He heard Effie’s light patting stop, the sound ceased, then continued, chasing her hand in smooth circles across the boy’s back. Haymitch only listened. Helios whimpered. Effie hummed.

They fit together so quietly.

But, they were loud people. She would shriek when she was mad, he would slam doors. Helios was loud. He blabbered, he banged things, he threw toys, he stomped his feet and slammed the doors. At all times Helios’ place was known, unless the house fell silent. He was up to trouble when he was quiet. He was playing with things he shouldn’t be, working his way down or up the stairs – he couldn’t walk but the kid was steady on his hands and knees – and sometimes, on rare, stressful and time consuming occasions. Helios was quiet when he had climbed into the cupboard or hidden under a bed in order to sleep. On those days, in the beginning, Effie and Haymitch looked up and down for the small boy in panic that something horrific had happened to him. They only found him sleeping someplace quiet.

He listened to the spring air blowing across the trees in his yard, picking up pollen from the flowers he and Effie planted, the sweet smell drifted through the breeze and into their open bedroom window. Helios grunted in his sleep for the second time. Haymitch admitted defeat. Sleep would not claim him on that warm and lazy spring afternoon.

With a groan he opened his eyes, his arms pushing him up onto his elbows as he looked over his wife’s book to check on his sleeping son. Helios was still lying on his stomach, head to the side, little eyes wide open and investigating his father. His small face beamed when he saw the man, excited to find that he was there.

Not just mom, but dad too.  

Helios was quick. He clambered across his mother in seconds, chubby limbs forcing himself over her stomach and past her book. He giggled as his mother tisked, his father only cheering him on. Calling the boy ‘trouble’ Haymitch picked Helios up under his arms and held him up over his head. Giggling, large mouthfuls of laugher Helios shoved his fingers in his mouth, drooling around him as his laughter fell.

Haymitch laughed. Full blown, happy chortles. He wasn’t one for the sound, light chuckles were his usual; made at a shared joke or a lightly told story sometimes the sound chased his own snarky comment. He let out an unexpected joyful laugh on the occasions when Effie truly surprised him in her antics, or when Peeta and Katniss had gone above and beyond for humour. That laugh was new, post-rebellion. His deep belly laughs only started appearing in weeks ago, in the days where Helios discovered the world enough to be amused by it. It made Haymitch laugh to see his son so jovial, so alive, so safe.

‘Papa’ the boy shrieked, one of the only words in his vocabulary properly applied. Some days he used only one word, be it ‘Papa’, for every interaction he made. Haymitch wanted to pull his hair out on those days.

He loved his son. In the beginning he had his doubts towards doing his job properly. He was scared to hold the boy, scared to close his eyes around him, scared to give him his name. Days turned into nights, turned into weeks, turned  into ten months and he realised there was never a second he could possibly tear himself away from.

Helios and Effie, they were his. No one was going to take that away.


End file.
